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by RedSnow1



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Idiots in Love, Impossible Relationship, Light Angst, Love, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post Season 3, Regret, Sad Eleven | Jane Hopper, Sad Joyce Byers, Star-crossed, hop has got to be alive, mother joyce byers, night time regrets, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: But Joyce Byers doesn’t move on. She never quits. She fights until she gets what she wants because she goddamn deserves it. After everything that she has been through, she deserves happiness, and she knows she will find it along his side.





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**Author's Note:**

> Hello Stranger Things fandom,
> 
> You don't know me, it's my first story for this show (and hopefully not the last) but season 3 has ended me and I wanted to contribute a little by sharing this story.  
It's sad.  
Very sad.  
Just like the ending of season 3 -- oh well :')
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, let me know in the comment section if you did !
> 
> Thanks to @Loving_Leta for the amazing beta work ! You really helped me out a lot for this <3  
Enjoy !

Everything seems… awfully quiet.

Especially at night, when the children are sleeping and she is left alone in the company of her thoughts.

She wouldn’t ordinarily mind. Her life has been a complete mess these past few years between Will and the many attacks from the Upside Down… And now everything has calmed down. She doesn’t have to worry about any of it anymore. No monster hiding beneath her walls, no threats… Just plain, dull silence. And it’s good. Isn’t it? She finally gets to have a normal family. As normal as it can be. Back then, she would have given anything for a moment of peace. It’s why she had moved out, after all. Now that she comes to think of it, perhaps running away was not the best solution. She needed it back then. But now? She feels empty. Because after everything that they had been through, the numbing silence is too much and she finds herself staring at the ceiling of her room every night wondering what kind of evil would fall upon them. Dreading for something to happen, and yet secretly hoping that it would. 

Yet, nothing ever happens. It’s the same drill every day. She drops the kids to school on her way to work. Joyce has secured herself a nice spot at a local shop: her colleagues are nice and yet something is missing. When she comes home, she makes dinner for her hungry little troop and watches television with them. It’s nice. But it’s not enough. 

Every Friday night, her heart clenches as she and El settle down in front of the television to watch Miami Vice. The woman had never  seen it before, but she knows how important it is for the girl she had rescued. So she watches. And she thinks of him.

It hurts.

Sometimes, for Christmas or Halloween, Nancy and Mike stay a few days and for a moment there, she almost feels like everything is back to normal. Dustin, Lucas and Max sometimes tag along and seeing their happy faces around her table makes her heart tremble.

She misses Hawkins. She misses the familiar faces, her neighbors stopping by for coffee, Will’s friends coming over for unplanned dinners. She misses the forest and the lake and everything that made her life… normal back then. She never thought this small town would have grown on her that way… Or maybe it wasn’t the town itself. Maybe it was the people there. Those she used to see everyday.

She misses Hop’ stopping by Melvald for a pep talk. Worry in his features as he paced to and from the alleys of the shop. How he crouched down to look at her whenever he was upset. The way he kept on staring at her, thinking that she hadn’t noticed when in reality, she was very much aware of what was going on. She could always feel his deep blue eyes settled on her, warming her heart and making it tremble. He was always staring at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the surface of this dangerous world. And for a minute, he made her feel young and like a foolish teenager with a crush again.

She misses his deep voice and the way he always saw the glass half empty. Misses investigating with him. She misses every little thing about him that drove her crazy, because in the end, they were the reason she had fallen in love. She hated his violence until she understood his pain. She thought he was careless until she had seen him fight for what mattered to him. Despised his constant yelling until she figured out what he was hiding behind his deep voice and bad temper, the fact that he was a man. The fact that he had feelings.

She misses his arms around her frail body, his silent presence whenever something was wrong. The reassurance of knowing that he was close, that he knew what she was going through. He is the only one in this goddamn world. The only one she trusts.

Or perhaps she just misses him. All of him.

And it hurts.

Joyce chuckles bitterly, turning to the other side of her very empty bed and sighs. She holds one pillow against her chest — like a shield supposed to prevent her heart from shattering once more.

The truth is: it never stops.

The pain, the numbing pain. The silence -- too loud, too much for her.

She closes her eyes in a desperate attempt to find solace in slumber. Lately, she has had trouble finding sleep. Every time she closes her eyes, she remembers his face, nodding and assuring that it was alright. His tearful eyes, staring at her, filled with regrets, fear and acceptance. But it’s not alright. It’s never going to be alright. He died, he is gone, and it’s all her fault. She stopped the device. Perhaps if she had waited another minute…

Tears threaten to roll down her cheeks and there is a painful lump on her throat. Joyce Byers buries her face into the pillow to silent her sobs. She doesn’t want the children to know. She can’t show her weakness. They have suffered enough. She has to be the brave one in this story. And his voice echoes in her mind, hunting her.

_ "You know what I would give? For a chance? You know what I would give?” _

She knows. She has known before of course.

She would have given anything to save her son.

To save Bob.

And Jim.

And she wants to scream.

It feels like everything that touches her ends up being hurt. Like she is cursed.

Maybe she is.

Maybe that’s why happiness runs away from her once she’s just managed to get a hold of it.

Sometimes, she finds herself imagining that he is out there, somewhere. It’s all wishful thinking but quite frankly, she couldn’t care less. She needs to believe that he is alive. She wants him to come back, knock at the door and pretend it hasn’t been a year since they had last seen each other. She wants to yell at him for not showing up at Enzo’s on that damn Friday night, for forgetting to pick her up. She had waited that night, hopeful. He hadn’t shown up, of course, and she had left with the bottle of Chianti. He was gone. What had she expected?

She wants nothing but to argue with him, poke him in the chest and push him against a wall because at least he would be alive. She would be able to touch him, and he would calm her down: only he knew how. And then, perhaps, once the arguing all over, she would kiss him because damn, it’s been too long and she loves him. Because she regrets not having done so when she had asked him out. Would it have made everything worse? 

Above all, Joyce misses their constant bickering. Because it has always been more than silly fights. They were two broken adults, scared to let their true feelings unravel and yet both knowing that they cared — acting like children. They were two lost souls longing for company. And Murray had been right. He was a man-baby. She was scared.

Joyce is scared to love. Scared to let another person in and watch them being taken away from her. Every time she had felt care for someone, they had ended up taken away from her. Lonnie, Bob and now Jim.  _ Jim _ . And the sobs increase. It’s all so unfair.

She misses him. And it’s eating her alive.

El is the only person who can understand her suffering. But the girl never mentions his name. It hurts too much and Joyce gets it. Jim was her father and now he is gone. Nothing can ever replace him in the girl’s heart. It may be selfish but the woman only wishes she could have someone — anyone to remember him by. To talk about him. About how brave and selfless he was. She is alone, stuck in a loop of pain and regrets. Stuck in memories of a time that no longer exists. Stuck by his side, in this Russian Base.

She is alone. He is gone.

Joyce Byers pushes the covers aside and sits at the edge of the bed. Her heart is hammering inside her chest and she feels her anxiety crippling it’s way into her once more. It’s nearing one in the morning, and she knows that tonight, she will not get any sleep. She is used to it by now. Most of the times, when she manages to get some rest, she dreams about him and wakes up screaming, panting.

Putting on some sleepers, and cardigan to keep herself warm, she gets up to check on her children. Taking care of them has been the only thing keeping her sane. She needs them safe.

Will is soundlessly sleeping, his crayons scattered all around him: he has been drawing a lot lately — perhaps to cope with the fact that he had been separated from his friends. He misses them, even though he tries to pretend that everything is fine. She knows best. He is her son, after all. Her careful eyes follow the trails of papers on the ground. On the sheets, familiar faces of those he used to spend his day with: Will, Dustin, Lucas, Max, El… Hopper. Her breath is caught in her chest. Joyce takes a step closer and picks up the drawing, recognizing the features of the man she loves — loved. And she stands here, dumbstruck. From his mustache to the shimmer in his eyes — everything is there, perfectly reproduced. William has armed him with a sword and a shield: He was a knight in shining armor. Hop doesn’t look angry, or sad. He looks happy. Happier than he has ever been. And she smiles bitterly. She would have loved to get to know that man.

And the pain washes over her. The numbing silence swallows her. She puts the drawings down and closes the door behind her, running away before her feelings get to her.

In the next bedroom, Jonathan has succumbed to slumber with his headphones on, and she smiles, recognizing the numbed tune of the Clash.  _ His favorite. _ If she hadn’t been so scared of waking him up, she would have taken them away.  Somewhere , she had read that it was not good for his health. Her boy seems peaceful that way, hands over his head, chest  rising and falling. She doesn’t want to disturb his blissful state of sleep, he has to get up for work tomorrow. Earlier this evening, she had heard him on the phone with Nancy, trying to plan their next meeting. With the money he had made as a photographer for the local newspapers, he can afford a trip to Hawkins. Joyce wishes to come with him and walk down memory lane. She can’t. Too painful. But she is happy to see her oldest son thriving in this relationship with this amazing woman. Maybe someday… He will go back to Indiana for good.

Finally, Joyce reaches the last doorstep, the door is open by about three inches. She peeks slowly, not willing to scare the girl in case she hadn’t found sleep. Usually, the two of them stay up late, staring at each other in the numbing silence, both wanting to say something, both too scared to do it. Today, Eleven is curled up in a ball on this bed too big for her. Her hair is  sprawled on the pillows and she looks like an injured puppy. Despite the cold, her blankets are thrown aside —proof of her difficult night and many bloody tissues are left on the ground. Ever since Hopper’s — disappearance, she has not been able to use her powers but kept on trying nevertheless. Joyce is afraid that the girl will push herself too hard and never recover.

_ I need to find him _ . She repeats over and over, tears in her eyes, blood running from her nose.

Joyce doesn’t say anything. How can she? It’s not her place. El knows her powers better than any of them do.

Besides, she wants to find him as well. She wants to keep on hoping that he is out there, somewhere. Safe. All she has to do is find out where.

El is the only way. The girl whimpers in her sleep; Joyce can only make out her back: the lights are on. She steps cautiously into the bedroom, trying not to make the floor creak and turns it off. As soon as she does it, a small, sleepy voice rises in the air.

“Hop ?”

The hopefulness in her tone breaks her heart.

The wobble of her lips makes her eyes water.

And she wants to lie. To pretend. What good would it do?

The woman sighs and turns only to see a set of brown eyes staring at her with puzzlement and confusion. And she feels it. The  disappointment . As much as El enjoys being around her, she is not the person she needs right now. She wants her father. The man who has rescued her all those years ago in the woods. The bad-tempered man who didn’t know how to express his feelings but cared deeply. And she gets it. It’s not because of her — it’s because of who she isn’t. Joyce reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear fondly. The girl shivers but doesn’t push her away. Lately, she has been more open to her signs of tenderness.

“It’s just me. Please, go back to sleep, sweetie.”

The girl nods, and closes her eyes again without asking further. El is exhausted and probably doesn’t have the strength to question her anymore. Joyce smiles. At least one of them has managed to escape the pain and the lingering sadness. Does she dream about him too ? Does she hear his voice in her slumber?

Joyce leaves and heads for the balcony in front of her little house. Fiddling in her pockets, she finds a pack of cigarettes and her heart clenches upon remembering those days she and Jim smoked together at school. They were young back then and the world was theirs to conquer. She remembers the way he kept on laughing every time she coughed. Their fingers almost touching as he passed the burning cigarette end. His eyes on her — kind. She had always wondered why he was being so nice to her. Had he fancied her, even back then? Or was she another girl he had sworn to protect, like the little sister he never had?

Now absolutely alone, she lets her mind wonder, go back in time. A much simpler time where their only worries were school and their parents.

The world around her is silent except for the soft sound of the consuming tobacco — which reminds her of him. What would she give just to talk to him? She swears sometimes that she can hear his voice but discards the idea immediately. It’s not like Will. He is gone, isn’t he?

Just like every night, her watery eyes fall upon the telephone, sitting there, silent. 

Just like dusk.

Just like her life.

All awfully silent.

She fights the urge to pick it up, and dial a number she knows oh-too-well. It’s silly. What would be the point? It is not as if he would pick up. He is gone. Isn’t he? She is not so sure anymore, but perhaps the lack of sleep and the hurt in her chest speaks on her behalf.

_ It’s not healthy. What did Jim say about moving on? _

But Joyce Byers doesn’t move on. She never quits. She fights until she gets what she wants because she goddamn deserves it. After everything that she has been through, she deserves happiness, and she knows she will find it along his side.

_ Screw that. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to give up. _

_ I just want to hear your voice. _

The brunette caves and dials the number. Her fingers shake. She waits. It feels like forever.

“Hey you’ve reached Jim, I’m probably doing something incredible right now…"

Her hand shoots to her mouth to muffle a cry mixed with a chuckle. She had always enjoyed this voicemail: it sounded so much like him. What does she say? Where does she begin? She sobs and hangs up, shaking, her hand still clutched tight around the receiver.

And she dials, again and again.

Until his voice is inked in her mind.

Until she can no longer forget his tone.

And after a while, she manages to talk and her voice is hoarse. Joyce Byers has been calling this number every night for about a year, hoping that he would pick up and leaving voicemails for him to listen to, wherever he is. Thinking that maybe he could hear her just like Will did.

But it wasn’t like Will.

He was just… gone.

“It’s day 376.” She whispered. “I know this is silly — doing what the kids do… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s not like you will answer, right ? I guess, I was — I just… I was just hoping to hear your voice, ya know. It’s just — I miss you Hop. I really do… And I am sorry. About everything. About the bickering. About turning you down for your date. You remember, a while back? I once told you that I would do anything to get away from you — I never meant it, Hop. I never meant anything I have said to you out of anger or frustration. I was scared. I still am. Maybe I am the black hole after all. Maybe everything I touch dies and — Maybe that’s what you did. You got sucked up right into it… I just wanted to let you know that I… I really —“

There was a horrendous beeping sound and she freezes, wondering what is going on until a mechanical voice answers her wanders.

“Voicemail full.”

_ You’ve got to be shitting me. _

The receiver shatters on the ground and hangs pitifully. The beeping sound continues.

She wants to scream but the kids are sleeping and she always puts their needs first.

Joyce Byers falls unto her knees, sobbing.

It’s too painful. And the numbing silence is surrounding her, swallowing her whole. Once again. Maybe forever.

She takes a deep puff of her cigarette to calm herself down and smiles weakly as she hears it. The soft noise of consuming tobacco.

And it’s enough to calm her down for a minute.

To make her feel safe.

And right now, it almost feels enough.

_ Almost. _


End file.
